Treasure Island

Don Sizemore


Words


With words and words and words
I'm cut and splayed and torn
Mouths of hungry predators
Drip with blood from night till morn

Ivories stained by my oil
Tongues a crimson deep
Eyes that only cry for more
Smiling as they weep

Open now with no defence
A playground for the edge of tongue
Fillet the fragile reality
I built from piles of dung

These attacks they change a man
A death is surely done
And is born a coarser soul
Each time a battles won

Words and I were enemies
But we have had our days
We've conspired to cauterize
And set the heart ablaze

Now these words, I harbor them
And keep them for a muse
Records of a past that stings
But no longer is a bruise

Submitted: Monday, July 01, 2013
Edited: Thursday, July 25, 2013
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